


forever for a minute

by newsbians



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Eating Disorders, F/M, Found Family, Group Therapy, Leukemia, M/M, Terminal Illnesses, also alcohol and drug mentions, and they will be happy, basically just a sad slew of tags, but - Freeform, so this is going to be dark to say the least, they're all (except Ben) live-in patients at a hospital
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbians/pseuds/newsbians
Summary: Our first meeting will be on December 3rd, this upcoming Tuesday, at four o’clock. Hope to see you there.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	1. richie bitchie titchy witchy kitschy nitchie tozier

**Author's Note:**

> any grammatical errors are purposeful and a StYliStiC cHoiCe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why is everyone so worried like they just need to calm down and take a deep breath like he does sometimes when his brain is saying things but he's not aloud to say them out loud in 123 out 123.  
> (richie's pretty graphic, i won't lie.)

it begins with the whole eyebrow thing the whole eyebrow thing that isn’t really a big deal but it is because he ‘hurt himself’ but he didn’t because he didn’t feel anything. so like everyone is worried including his mom and hey that’s new but everyone is worried even the doctor and the nurses even the sexy one. they don’t say they’re worried but the sexy nurse doesn’t say that she’s banging the head doctor and richie figured that one out didn’t he? so they’re all worried but he thinks it’s dumb to be worried because literally nothing happened he just has a sick scar now which is exactly what he wanted he wanted to look like everyone else with the sick eyebrow slit thing. but how do you give yourself an eyebrow slit richie doesn’t know so he just slashed himself open with a razor and tried not to get blood in his eye (he failed) and then asked his mom for a wet wipe. 

she didn’t give him the goddamn wet wipe and now he’s in a hospital but not in the fun way like he always wanted to be in one when he was younger like in the movies. richie isn’t allowed to talk to anyone really and even if he was no one would want to talk back because they’re really not a talkative bunch ‘round these parts. he talks to the things around him instead like his lunch tray and his bedsheets and the little paper cup that holds his pills that he doesn’t take and they can’t make him so there. he sees a girl that looks like his age maybe somedays but she always looks really tired and she’s always asking for a cigarette which are bad bad bad for you richie! he would slice himself open again for a cigarette though and judging by the looks of that girl she would too. 

it’s not like he liked the whole razor thing it’s just that he didn’t mind it. it used to be a party trick that he could hold an open palm over an open flame and not flinch and he could play that stupid knife game without hurting when the knife went chop chop chop. but now kids his age don’t want to see blood spilled they want to have it rush to their cheeks and stain their faces. maybe that’s why richie did it because the blood left a rosy afterglow and he looked like every other lovesick fool at his good for nothing school but who is his lover? the scar or the blade? 

they keep him in here because they’re ‘concerned about what he could do next’ even though that’s really dumb he never plans on doing it things just happen to him and he rolls with it. his mom good ol’ maggie tozier visits him twice a week and listens to the different impressions he is working on at the moment and right now he is moving his way through the 2010 snl cast list even though he’s having a hard time with bill hader. she listens which is nice of her and he talks which isn’t nice of him but necessary because there isn’t a goddamn person in this hospital who lets him talk. she always brings him something something from his room which makes him feel like he’s getting evicted but very very slowly and his landlord is being very very nice about it. 

she’s sitting beside him now as he talks “they cAll it SouPING. TEEnagers are drinking exPIRED soup cAns to get hiGH.” “You’re very close, Rich. He just has a nasally quality you’re still missing.” and holding a poster of SMASH MOUTH that someone bought for him ironically but he kinda likes. before he can continue the sexy nurse walks in like a sexy nurse and whispers something in his mom’s ear and before he can ask what’s happening his mother answers with a very surprised yes. sexy nurse smiles and walks away and he asks what’s happening but good ol’ maggie tozier gives a sly look in return. now the doctor walks in and either he wears lipstick in the shade of lucky lindy or the sexy nurse and him haven’t been doing a good job of being medical professionals. 

“Richie! Glad to see you today.” i see you everyday richie thinks very annoyed because whenever he sees the bastard doctor he doesn’t want to talk but surprise surprise there’s a surprise no one is telling him and it’s going to kill him if he doesn’t find out! “We heard your complaints about not having anyone to talk to, trust me.” they weren’t complaints they were demands for someone to listen to him please! “So we’re bringing a new therapist on staff and trying a new form of group therapy. We’re going based off of age range instead of relatable topics of discussion, hoping that it will stimulate different conversations. Would you like to be apart of the first round?” 

richie thinks about the chat he had with his pudding yesterday and then the girl who begs for cigarettes and never eats her pudding or talks to it either and then his 2010 snl impressions that are slowly getting better. he says yes right away because he knows that it will make the doctor have to listen to him more and richie would do just about anything if it meant for someone to talk to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello so like my idea is pretty basic and i know it's been done before but i really like writing all of these characters in situations that are very real and extenuating. also you'll probably pick up on it but stan's chapters are me #projecting my issues so gang gang!! please please tell me if i write something and it's like...... horribly horribly off from what's real. anyways i hope you like it and if you leave a comment i will kiss you twenty times with my lipstick in the shade lucky lindy <3


	2. ben hanscom hanscom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benjamin Hanscom was just happy happy happy to be home.

The envelope sat next to his bowl of corn flakes, unopened unopened and innocent, as if this was a common occurrence. He stared at it warily from his safe safe safe distance across the room and wondered if this was a normal thing maybe maybe, that an envelope came for him every week on Thursday mornings and his mom had always laid it out in hopes he would wake up in time to read them. Two and a half two and a half years of letters in the mail that Ben had conveniently missed. Not conveniently, he knew, this was no quirky mistake that the boy kept making, it was a deliberate attack attack his brain kept barraging him with until Sunday of last week. Ben Hanscom woke up from twenty nine month nap alone alone, in a white hospital room, at four o’clock in the morning. 

He woke up sort of confused but awfully awfully calm for a person in his state. A hospital room was unmistakable, and that’s where he lie, a series of different tubes tubes tubes snaking in and out of him. Quietly he called “Hello?” in hopes that a nurse would hear. If not, he wouldn’t bother bother them until morning. Suddenly, a woman in scrubs came rushing into the room and flicked on the lights, bathing Ben Ben Ben Ben in a fluorescent glow that reminded him of high school and being fifteen and just being alive alive alive for God’s sake. Everything was so happy after that, the smiles on everyone’s faces and the joy in his mother’s warm hug when he was finally finally finally able to reciprocate after all of this time. After all of the celebration he was discharged because his scans came back clear, clear as the lake water down by the Barrens Barrens and Ben Hanscom was finally home for the first time since the accident accident. 

There was no explanation as to why he woke up which was concerning concerning from a medical standpoint, but the doctor very carefully told his mother that the situation was nothing to fear fear, that this happened to patients of his nature his nature often. Brain Hypoxia was the only way to put it medically, a simple phrase for a lack lack of oxygen to the brain that caused his neurons to shut down shut down rapidly. Ben heard all of this while eating hospital cafeteria chicken noodle noodle soup and trying not to get distracted by the television in the background playing the latest news. The world the world had not changed much in his eyes, the eyes that watched as the town of Derry Derry Derry sped by him and he noted that everything managed to look the same, no better, no worse. His house didn’t look very different, his shoes shoes still sat by the door next to his mom’s house slippers and his bed still had Star Wars sheets and his toothbrush was still bright green. 

Everything everything was the same. Except Ben. There was a change change in him but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. 

Even the bowl that held his corn flakes was the same. Which is why the letter threw him off, especially when he ripped ripped the top off and pulled out a very fancy-looking piece of stationery addressed to him. 

Dear Benjamin Hanscom, 

Congratulations on your recent recovery! Nurse Lewis has been telling me that your mother’s updates have only been positive, and I’m very glad to hear that you are still enjoying the music we would play in your room. Sorry kid, but I was a huge New Kids On The Block fan and it gave the room an uplifting mood. I’m not here, however, to apologise for my taste in music, but instead tell you about a new type of treatment we are going to be offering at the hospital. It’s a group therapy session based around age instead of relatable topics of discussion, so this way you can all talk about different things with unbiased listeners. Everything will be completely anonymous and kept confidential, but we feel that this would be beneficial to help you catch yourself up to speed on things that might confuse you. We understand that being thrown back into daily life might be difficult and this could be a safe space for you to ask questions with no judgement. Our first meeting will be on December 3rd, this upcoming Tuesday, at four o’clock. Hope to see you there. 

Best wishes and health, 

Dr. Igor Kanataa 

He sat down and ate his corn flakes, staring at the new event he wrote on his mom’s calendar with mild mild interest. Unbiased listeners. He could could could do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ben's backstory is kinda sad yawl i Will Not Lie. but i love him and i love the hopefulness his character brings to the table so welcome to my ted talk! anyways leave a comment and i will pour you twenty nine bowls of corn flakes.


	3. william- bill denbrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill juSt wantS to go home. And find out where Georgie iS.

The woman Smiled at him brightly. “You’re doing great, Bill. Why don’t we try again?” Sure, he could do that. ThiS meant that they would try about fourteen more timeS until the SeSSion was over, maybe twelve if he kept Stuttering eSpecially hard on ‘Walking the dog’ PAUSE! ‘In the park.’ these SeSSions alwayS made him anxiouS, anxiouS to pleaSe, anxiouS to leave, anxiouS to know what the hell kind of information they were keeping from him. that feeling waSn’t new, however. The inceSSant feeling of not knowing Stayed with him like a Stone at the pit of hiS Stomach conStantly, reminding him at any given moment of the day. He tried to ignore it moSt in momentS like theSe, when the Speech therapiSt would grin warmly and make him feel aS if there was actual progreSS being made. The truth would come out when hiS parentS came to viSit, when he would try to impreSS them with hiS Steady SentenceS and even tongue twiSterS. HiS mother told him about ‘He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts’ on her firSt viSit, and he had been trying deSperately to work through it. VoiceS in the back of hiS mind nagged conStantly whenever he would Show off hiS Steady wordS.  _ Ask them. Do it. You know you want to.  _

“Hey, can I ask you something?” He looked up in Surprise to See his doctor Standing by the door. Dr. Kanataa was a Stocky, older man with a kind Smile and graying hair. When Bill was firSt admitted to the hoSpital he waS under the Surveillance of a Surly woman who would make Snide commentS about hiS injurieS when She thought he couldn’t hear her, So the change in doctorS had been a relief. It waS in a whole different wing of the hoSpital, the Trauma and Recovery area, and it didn’t have the faSt paced note of worry hanging in the air that StreSSed Bill out. PluS, it had Dr. Kanataa, who was definitely a welcome addition.

“S-S-Sure!” Dammit. 

The man came and Sat on the edge of hiS bed very gingerly. Bill alwayS thought thiS waS funny, the way people enter a hoSpital room aS if they’re approaching a Snake or a feral animal. He waS currently perched in a chair with a Sketchbook. The likelihood of him attacking Someone and getting away with it waS awfully low. “So. How’re things going with Sara?”  _ Sara? Who was- ahh, yes, the really nice therapist. _

He thought about hiS Sentence before Saying it, pictured it clear in hiS head and heard himSelf Say it in hiS head. “Really w-well. S-S-She’s n-n-n-nice.” Damn S’s. 

“I can hear it.” The doctor Smiled again, brighter this time, and made Bill feel like yeS! He waS doing better! “Congratulations, William. You’re getting better every single day-”

“Buh-Bill.” 

The man’S eyebrowS knit together for a Second. “Yes. Bill. So sorry.” 

“I-It’s okay. G-G-Georgie calls-s m-me th-th-that.” 

A clench of jaw. A heavy intake of breath. “Yes. Georgie.” He adjuSted hiS glaSSeS on hiS noSe. “Anywho. I have a proposition for you. As I said, you’ve been improving at such a high speed in these past two weeks, and that will not go unnoticed. Soon you’ll be ready to leave, in fact. Once those stitches get an all clear, the only thing you’ll have to come back for are your sessions with Sara.” At the mention of returning home, Bill’S Stomach erupted into a flurry of excitement. He miSSed hiS bed, hiS family, hiS friendS. Bill miSSed his life before the accident and it hadn’t even been three weeks. “However, we are offering a new option that might be interesting for you.” 

“I-I’m lis-s-stening.”

“It’s a new form of therapy. Not speech, nothing like Sara, but more of a traditional group therapy setting with a twist. Instead of grouping you together by…”

Bill interrupted him. “O-Our p-p-problems? It’s-s-s oka-ay, yuh-you c-can s-s-say it.” 

Dr. Kanataa wryly grinned. “You’re the first kid who’s said what I’ve been thinking. Yes, instead of putting together people with similar problems, as you said, it will be organized by age. We think it will help to be in a social environment where you can work on different speech exercises without being under a microscope of your general peers. Would you be interested in giving it a shot?” 

A group of people hiS age Sounded daunting aS hell. Bill, ever and alwayS confident, waS too nervous to talk to any of hiS friendS over video chat and lied to them, Saying that he waSn’t allowed viSitorS after the craSh. The Scar waS bad enough, the one that wrapped around hiS face in a U shape, croSSing hiS eyelidS and digging through his cheekS. But the Stutter, the Sympathy glanceS he would get, it was too much to even think about. 

He miSSed being with other people, though. Bill miSSed the world. 

“I-If I s-s-say yes-s, c-can wuh-we t-trade in-nformation?” 

The doctor chuckled aS he got up from the bed, ticking a Small box on hiS clipboard. “Sure, Bill. What would you like to know?” 

Bill Set down his Sketchpad and repoSitioned himSelf in hiS chair, Shaking the hair out of hiS eyeS. “Wuh-Where is m-my buh-b-brother? W-Why c-can’t-t-t I s-s-s-see h-him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bill's chapters are so tedious because of the S thing el oh el. his storyline is my favorite because it's using that sweet dramatic irony. i hope you enjoyed!! plz leave a comment and i will draw you in bill's sketchbook!


	4. eddie- motherfucking- kaspbrak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie Kaspbrak doesn't want to die.

He was getting the oxygen tank-  _ the death of his entire social life _ , he thought grimly- in the morning, he was going to be tied up to a lightweight canister of aluminum that carried air that was pure enough to sit in his fucked up lungs. He was getting his oxygen tank in the morning, so tonight he was taking shots. Four deep and trying not to kill himself on the dance floor-  _ the lion’s den _ \- Eddie Kaspbrak was perched on a barstool, sipping on a glass of something tall and fruity to match the boy that was flirting with him. 

It wouldn’t amount to anything in the end, even if they made out and got handsy in a restroom stall-  _ it happened _ once _ and it was  _ disgusting!- because he had a doctor’s appointment in the morning and if he wasn’t in his bed when his mother came to wake him, she’d damn near have a heart attack. There was also the tricky business of explaining to the well-over twenty one year old man that he was just a kid, barely seventeen, and he wasn’t in the habit of being jailbait. Eddie attracted those kinds of men, though, ones that looked for the soft skin and sly grins wrapped around a glass. He didn’t mind the attention and if they ever got too handsy-  _ this boy is dangerously close if he touches my thigh one more time _ \- he knew a very discreet kick to the balls would make them disappear fairly quickly. 

“Hey!” The guy yelled, snapping Eddie out of his soon-to-be-doomed thought process. “We’ve got some” He mimicked smoking a joint. “Wanna join? We can get out of here!” This made him laugh-  _ yeah sure I’ll come! and then you guys can take me to the emergency room! _ \- and pat him on the shoulder. 

“Not tonight. Thanks for the drink!” Before the man could say anything else, Eddie disappeared into the crowd of men, thanking God for his small frame. He had tried so hard to get a medical card for a while last year when they were becoming really popular, but his doctor had laughed in his face. She spent the better part of a month explaining to him that bongs and vape pens introduced bacteria faster than a straw and he kept pushing back, insisting it would help with the anxiety-  _ that he didn’t have _ \- that caused his panic attacks. Then Rory, his friend from a different hospital, got admitted after smoking with her friend and had to go into a serious surgery. She had almost died. Eddie dropped the whole thing. 

Thinking of that made his chest feel tighter and suddenly he was coughing, coughing like his life depended on it-  _ which, yeah, it did _ \- and he ran to the bathroom. In between a couple hooking up and someone puking their alcohol poisioning up, Eddie spit large wads of mucus up. He winced-  _ goddamn sputum I hate you so much _ \- and knew the night was pretty much over. 

&&&

He kicked his feet around aimlessly, still not tall enough to reach the ground when sitting on an examination table. The paper wrinkled underneath him as he tried not to look at the fluorescent lights above him, his head pounding to an unknown beat. Mrs. Kaspbrak was sitting in one of the waiting chairs-  _ he was old enough to go to the doctors by himself now mom, Jesus Christ _ \- with her knitting in her lap as they both waited for Dr. Hendley to come in with the mysterious news. What they both had thought was a normal, routine visit turned into a panicked wait at the nurses’ orders, and now his mom was clacking together her knitting needles and wouldn’t stop talking. 

“I’m just worried, Eddie-bear. What if the deficiencies have come back?” 

“I don’t think so, ma. That only came up when I was nine and didn’t want to eat vegetables.” 

“Yes but when was the last time you had a salad?” 

“Four days ago, ma. It’s not about my diet.”

“Hemoptysis! It has to be that. Remember how that was a huge concern last year and Dr. Hendley said you always have to be careful now that you’re graduating into adulthood-” 

“If I was coughing up blood I think I’d know, ma.” 

“Doctors will always know best-” 

Dr. Hendley entered the room was a careful swish of the door, cutting both his mother and his worried train of thought off. She smiled softly at the two and pulled up a chair to face them both. “How’s my favorite track star feeling today?” The nickname-  _ Eddie Kaspbrak takes the gold! _ \- made him smile, even though it hurt a little bit in the back of his heart. 

“Really well, Doctor.” 

Before she could respond, his mother launched into a tirade. “Why are we being asked to stay for longer today? I thought that this was routine, that Eddie was going to pick up his oxygen tank and everything was going to be as normal as possible-” 

“Before I explain that, Mrs. Kaspbrak, let me show you some things.” The woman pulled up an x-ray, immediately familiar to Eddie. It was his chest, thin and weak, looking almost normal but never quite right. “Do you see your airway walls?” He nodded, following her finger. “They’re thinning. And while that’s quite common for people with CF because of the amount of coughing, yours is different.” 

“Different?” His mother gasps. 

_ Different? _ He whispers to himself, very softly. 

“Because of the area it’s thinning out, signs are pointing to respiratory issues.”

She might as well have said failure. That’s what she meant. Respiratory failure. 

“So that’s why we’ve asked you to stick around a bit longer today, Eddie. We’re gonna have to bring you back in for at least a month to start watching you for any other signs that might catch our eye-” 

He can hear his mother whimpering in the background, but all Eddie can focus on is the rush of blood lapping around inside of him. The thudding of his heartbeat matched in perfect time with the headache and he suddenly felt so, so small. 

“And we just think it might be a good way to stay social while you’re here. We know how lonely the treatments can get for you, and we already have some solid kids signed up. None of them with CF either, so you don’t have to worry about the six feet rule.” 

He didn’t know what the hell she was talking about-  _ the six feet rule was for chumps and people who are scared of dying. Like Eddie Kaspbrak. _ \- but he started to think about what he needed to pack in his room. There was a bag in his closet always ready to go, but everything else was tucked neatly away on shelves or under his bed. 

“So you’ll do it?” Dr. Hendley waited with curious eyes. Fuck, he didn’t know the question. 

“Yeah. I’ll do it. When do I move in?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eddie is a little bit of a skank in this i will not lie but also i am learning so much about cf! being slutty pays kids! leave a comment and i will make you five salads!


	5. beverly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there are better ways to spend an eighteenth birthday.

her bones hurt. they usually did, in that achy, painful reminder sort of way, but today she could point to each bone in her body, the miniscule ones that made up your fingers and nose, and feel the physical stab. if she got out of bed she would fall to the floor and never be able to get back up again and then the floor would be her home. so in the bed she stayed, wishing that she could take a morphine drip and forget that she was spending her eighteenth birthday in a hospital. 

there were red balloons tied to the end of the bed, which was confusing since she wasn’t allowed to use her computer charger without a nurse watching her. and it wasn’t like she was actively trying to kill herself like everyone in the hall, like that kid who put his hand palm-first onto a hot plate at breakfast yesterday and only bothered to stop when a nurse pulled him away. (“god doc, i’m sorry. i didn’t even notice! which is my whole thing, right?”) no, there was no danger in beverly taking the plastic cutlery served with meals and slitting her wrists, the real harm was in the food it was intended for. like the small cupcake that sat by her bed now, on the plastic side table, smelling like fake sugar and a grocery store bakery. she wasn’t going to eat the damn thing, obviously, but the scent alone was enough to wrinkle her nose even if she took a normal interest. happy adulthood, they said. here’s some wasted helium and calories in a confetti wrapper. 

maybe bones just started to hurt like this when you became an official adult. that would explain why everyone seemed to be so miserable all of the time- it wasn’t the taxes or the full time jobs, it was the constant pricking of pins and needles whenever you moved. she swallowed thickly. she felt every single moment. 

“knock knock!” beverly barely managed to life her head off of the pillow, but cracked a small smile once she realized who her visitor was. 

“elaine. i missed you.” 

her aunt, a short, fiery redhead with a mane that matched her mothers, bustled around the room in an attempt to fix things up. this was in no offense to beverly, it was simply something that had always happened. elaine had an eye for beautiful things and it had always been this way. (“that’s why i love you so,” she used to coo into beverly’s ear.) a vase of baby pink peonies replaced a half empty bottle of water, fresh blankets tucked down by her feet, new lavender hand soap by the sink. little things that made the room feel more like a home instead of a holding cell. “now.” she pulled out one last bag, painted like the ocean with tufts of wrapping paper at the top. “i have two presents for you. physical, verbal. which would you like first?” 

beverly hesitated a moment before reaching for the bag in front of her, trying desperately not to wince as all the bones in her hand crashed together. “well, since you already have it out.” she tried to sound teasing, but it just came out flat. she took out the layers of thin paper, lying them carefully next to her. they were such pretty shades of blues, blending together like the actual sea that she missed so much. finally, she pulled out a neatly gathered pile of fabric sitting on top of a nest of embroidery floss, hundreds of little color bundles with a packet of needles. wooden hoops of different sizes clacked together at the bottom of the bag, completing the gift. “oh, elaine.” beverly gasped, staring at the treasure before her. “you shouldn’t have. this is too much.” 

“nonsense, doll. i knew you’d get good use out of these.” beverly ran her hands across the fabrics, silk that was softer than a puff of air, a rich, creamy wool, a length of sky blue cotton. the possibilities were endless, they were laid out in front of her with such care and thoughtfulness. tears sprang to her eyes and she didn’t even try to mask it. “i’m so glad you love it, i was hoping to find you something that would remind you that you are my special, special girl.” all beverly could do was shakily wipe her eyes and throw a weak arm around her aunt, hugging her tightly. “now!” elaine clapped. “verbal news. you’ll be going to a group, starting this tuesday. it’s a therapy thing with people your age.” 

immediately, beverly began protesting. “we already tried the group session thing, elaine. it didn’t work.” 

“this is different. it’s experimental. and if worse comes to worse, maybe you’ll get a cute boy out of it.”  _ girl _ , beverly doesn’t bother correcting her. _ it’s always been girl. _ “the best part? dr. stein said you can go home once the sessions are complete.” 

this caught her attention. “how long? i get to go home? for sure?” 

“once a day for four weeks. only if you’re showing improvement.” 

“once a day? that’s insane!” 

“you all live here apparently. it’s not a commute when you have to go down two flights of stairs.” she thinks of her stabbing, betrayal bones. her hands are starting to hurt again. 

“so if i show improvement. and i go to these sessions. i’ll be home in a month?” 

elaine nodded solemnly. “prongs misses you.” 

beverly thought of her massive jet black lab, prongs. and her bed, so warm and cozy. and the posters she had up on her wall and the comfort of her own four walls and the ability to do what she’d like whenever she’d like- “okay. i start this tuesday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beverly marsh is a lesbian in this because she is a lesbian in my head. anyways i want to date her  
> leave a comment and i'll rob a Ralph's to get you a birthday cake <3


	6. Mike Hanlon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's a good dude when things come down to it.

The automatic doors swept open at his feet, brushing him with the shock of cool air that cut through the already freezing December chill. A receptionist looked up from the desk and smiled wide when he realized who stood before him. “How’s it going, dude?” 

He set his backpack down by the desk to reach over and give the man, Danny, a solid high-five. “Hey! How’s the baby?” A smile threatened to split Danny’s face in half as he began rambling about his newborn daughter, her ten perfect fingers and toes, and the boy smiled warmly. “She sounds amazing, I’m really happy for you and Laura. Before I forget, do you know what room I’m in this time? My parents are coming around with the bags and I don’t want to make them carry everything all the way.” 

After a quick debrief about his stay details, Mike grabbed his things and braved the winter air once more to catch his parents who were lugging his other bags to the front. As he retrieved a duffle from his mom, Mike amiably chatted with them until they reached the fourth floor, room fourteen. The walls were familiar and the sight of no one in the bed opposite his made Mike sigh inwardly with relief and a hint of guilt. It wasn’t like he hated having roommates, it was just easier to go through the sessions when he had time alone afterwards. 

“Well.” He said, once everything was packed away. Not knowing what to say, not really, he reached for the quilt that his grandmother had made for him a long time ago and now lay spread across the hospital bed, just like every other time he had ever stayed at St. Barabra’s. “I’ll miss you guys.” 

Before he could blink an eye, his mom had him wrapped in a tight hug and he felt the solid clap of his father’s hand on his back. “We’ll have none of that talk,” she whispered in his ear. “You’ll be home in a month and that’s not enough time to miss us.” Mike nodded numbly into her shoulder, wanting to protest  _ that’s definitely enough time, Mama _ , but instead he just held onto her for a little bit longer. 

They were gone by the time the nurse walked in with her sheet full of information and diagnosis. Like everyone else who ever met the imitable Mike Hanlon, she had a soft spot for the confident young man that came in for treatment on occasion. “Mike. I’m glad to see you again! I wish it was under different circumstances.” 

“Only a month, Sandy. And on the bright side, if I do this now, I’ll never have to do it again.” She made a disapproving noise while she looked over his chart- it was standard. Nothing new. 

“You know that’s not true, son. Later on in your life, it might be-” 

“Well I don’t plan on being sick later on. We’re killing it now.” He cut her off. There was a moment of silence that rang through his ears and he could tell he messed up, he should always be nice to the hospital staff and agree with everything they said. “Sorry.” He added, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Never be sorry,” Sandy said, patting him on the shoulder. “We are killing it. You’re killing it. You’re doing the very best you can possibly do.” Mike relaxed when she spoke those words, knowing that he wasn’t in trouble, he was just a headstrong boy with an attitude that was helpful in situations like his- he had a will to survive. “Speaking of doing the best we can do,” she said absentmindedly, still skimming his papers. “Dr. Hendley would like you to attend group therapy sessions while you’re here.” 

“Group therapy?” 

“Yep. This is the longest we’ve ever gotten you for, so she doesn’t want you to get crushed under the high emotional demand that comes with brachytherapy and the group will keep you talking to others and hopefully, your spirits up.” 

Group therapy. It didn’t seem like a half-bad option, something to keep him engaged while he knew well that the days could be long and lonely. “Will it be other ALL patients? That seems like a lot of us being treated at one hospital.” 

“Oh, no. No this is an experimental trial with people grouped by age instead of common interest. You’re in our sixteen to twenty group, and we have five other people signed up already. We’re expecting a few more, but it looks like none of them will be cancer patients.” 

He ran his hands back and forth over the quilt, staring deeply at the washed out colors he had been looking at his entire life. “Sounds like a plan. Thanks for letting me know, Sandy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i LOVE my boy michael he can do absolutely no wrong.  
> leave a comment and i will make you a hand-sewn quilt!!

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr i suppose @deafwestnewsies if you would like thank you


End file.
